


Made For Each Other

by Small_Hobbit



Series: River Police [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 05:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11684931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Stanley Hopkins and Sherlock have had a disagreement.  John is sent to mediate.





	Made For Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DW's Fan Flashworks "Glass" Challenge

John Watson spotted Stanley Hopkins staring morosely into his beer glass as soon as he entered the pub.  He made his way over to the bar to get himself a pint, before walking over to Stanley’s table.  
  
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.  
  
With a start Stanley looked up.  He shrugged and said, “Go ahead!”  
  
John sat down and began to drink his beer.  Stanley’s pint remained only a third drunk and John had the impression it had been that way for a while.  
  
“Would it help to talk about it?” John asked.  
  
“I doubt it.”  Stanley paused.  “How did you know I’d be here?”  
  
“Sherlock sent me.”  
  
“I didn’t tell him I was coming.  I haven’t said anything to him all day.”  
  
“I know.  He worked out the most logical place you would be, and sent me to talk to you.”  
  
“He didn’t come himself.  No, of course he wouldn’t.”  The anger in Stanley’s voice was the first sign of emotion John had seen.  “So he sends you instead.”  
  
Telling Stanley Sherlock hadn’t known what to do wouldn’t help matters, so John decided to change the subject.  “What’s the food like here?  I was thinking of picking up a takeaway on the way home, but if it's any good I could eat now.”  
  
“It’s good.  Sherlock and I eat – used to eat – here quite regularly.”  
  
“Right.  I’ll go and order something.  Do you want anything?”  
  
“You’ll probably like the curry,” Stanley said.  He took his wallet out and handed over a note.  “Can you order me a fish pie, please.”  
  
John went to the bar to order.  He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, which was no doubt Sherlock anxious to know how he was getting on.  He ignored it.  Stanley was bound to notice if he looked at it and John had no wish to undo the little he had achieved.  Sherlock would no doubt work out that the lack of reply meant he was still in the pub.  
  
When he went back to the table, Stanley said, “How much do you know?”  
  
“That something happened between the two of you, but as to what, I have no idea.”  John was grateful Sherlock hadn’t specified what had happened; Stanley might not possess Sherlock’s ability to pick up on the slightest detail, but as a police inspector there wasn’t much which got past him.  
  
“We were checking out part of the river bank.  It’s an area where I know people gather to drink and then just toss their bottles away.  I said we weren’t going to look further until we had better daylight, which would mean waiting half an hour.  I didn’t want anyone to cut themselves on broken glass, and half light is particularly bad for spotting it.  Sherlock accused me of being just like the others and insisted on continuing regardless.”  
  
“Did he find what he was looking for?”  
  
“I don’t know.  He left without saying anything else.”  
  
At this point their food arrived.  John looked at his almost empty glass and then at Stanley’s glass, to see he’d been drinking as he talked.  “Drink up,” he said, “And I’ll get us both another pint.”  
  
Whilst he was waiting at the bar to be served John reflected on their conversation.  He wasn’t surprised at either Stanley’s or Sherlock’s behaviour.  Stanley would consider the safety of his team; Sherlock would only look at the case and wouldn’t be concerned about safety – his own included.  But John’s instinct was there was a further problem which Stanley hadn’t yet mentioned.  
  
He returned, carrying the drinks, and he and Stanley began to eat.  Stanley was right, the curry was delicious.   
  
Once the edge had been taken of his hunger, John returned to the conversation.  “There’s more, isn’t there?”  
  
Stanley nodded.  “Yes.  Once Sherlock had left we found some items which we think may relate to a kidnapping case.  The trouble was Sherlock, in his hurry, may have disturbed some of the evidence.  I’ve reported it.”  
  
“Another black mark against Sherlock’s name.”  
  
“I’m afraid so.”  
  
John looked thoughtful.  “And if he hadn’t gone off in a strop, you’d have told him first, but you couldn’t.”  
  
“That’s about it.  It’s been on my mind all day.  How could I shop my boyfriend?  And yet, I couldn’t ignore the potential evidence.”  
  
“So you went with your job.”  
  
“Yes.  And I always will.”  Stanley sighed.  “Which just goes to show Sherlock and I won’t work out, as much as I’d like it to.”  
  
John grinned.  “I don’t know.  To me you seem perfectly matched.  Look, let me text him and we’ll see.”  
  
Stanley shrugged.  “Okay.  If you want.”  
  
John sent a quick text and returned to his curry.  
  
Fifteen minutes later they had finished eating and Stanley had drained his glass.  He stood up.  “Thanks for coming over, John,” he said.  “I appreciate it.  Hopefully I’ll still see you around.”  
  
At that moment Sherlock came hurrying into the pub.  “Stanley,” he said, “John tells me I fucked up.”  
  
Stanley looked at him but said nothing.  
  
“I’m not going to apologise,” Sherlock added.  
  
John sighed inwardly.  This wasn’t going how he wanted.  
  
Stanley looked straight at Sherlock.  “I’m not going to apologise either.”  
  
John started to think that he’d had a wasted journey, although the curry had been excellent.  
  
“Then we’re quits,” Sherlock said.  
  
Stanley nodded.  “Do you want to come back for a quick coffee?” he asked.  
  
“Why not?  See you later, John.”  
  
Stanley gave him a half apologetic look at not including him in the offer, but John waved it off.  He’d been right; Stanley and Sherlock were ideally suited to each other.


End file.
